


First Impressions

by Hammocker



Series: A Crane in the Home [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crying, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward couldn't just sit there and ignore the kid's pain. He had to do something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop starting things while I'm trying to finish other things. Don't do this to yourself, audience.
> 
> I should probably mention that Jonathan is 17 here, but by the time we get to anything questionable, he won't be, in case anyone cares. God, that's weird, teenage Jonathan Crane, still not used to that.

Something about the kid tugged at Edward’s heartstrings. Something drew him in like a fly to a light bulb. An attraction he couldn’t entirely explain and didn’t really want to think too hard about.

Jonathan had come in early in the morning, nervous and alert. He’d been questioned throughout the day and now it was well into the afternoon. According to him, he’d realized that his father was intent on using an experimental serum on him. He’d grown more and more afraid until he’d come to the police to tell them all he knew. And he had, he’d given his father’s current whereabouts and confessed to being complicit in a whole slew of crimes, all in the name of science. Jonathan had since been left to his own devices on the bench in the department’s back while they dealt with his father.

The moment he’d seen Jonathan, Edward had known one thing: Jonathan was a lot smarter than he let on. He barely differed from any other skinny teen his age, short, brown hair, pale, dark clothes, but his eyes were sharp and aware at all times. It wasn’t Edward’s job to do work with suspects on cases; he wasn’t an officer after all, but he did get the feeling that Jonathan’s story wasn’t entirely true. Not so much the events Jonathan had described, but the motivations behind his decisions. Edward had watched the interrogation play out from a safe distance and seen calculation in Jonathan’s face, heard it in his voice. He wasn’t scared, he had had some kind of plan. He hadn’t said anything as his observation wouldn’t make much difference in the case as a whole, but he was intrigued.

As such, Edward had found excuses to pass him by throughout the day, found errands to run for anyone and everyone in the building. Jonathan barely moved the entire time, only occasionally shifting his posture. Edward knew a thinking look when he saw one. He was thinking about something or even a lot of somethings. He wanted to go over and talk to the kid, but he didn’t know what he could possibly say. He didn’t want to make things worse.

It was when he saw Jonathan’s head dip forward and his slender frame quake that Edward broke down. He couldn’t watch the kid in pain and do nothing; it just wasn’t right. That’s what he told himself, anyway. So, Edward looped around once more to retrieve a handkerchief before heading over to him.

Edward situated himself beside Jonathan, not too close, but close enough for his presence to seem deliberate. He took out the cloth and held it to Jonathan’s palm. It took a moment, but Jonathan took it and wiped his face.

“Thank you,” he said between shudders.

Edward was quiet while Jonathan gave a sob every now and again. They grew shorter and more spread out over time until stopping all together. Jonathan held the handkerchief in his lap then, though, he still didn’t look up. Now Edward needed to say something, he was sure. Something comforting or uplifting, anything but what he ended up saying.

“My dad wasn’t very good either.”

No immediate response. Utter apathy from Jonathan, as far as he could tell. He didn’t have any expression to go off of, nor prior experience that would let him predict a reaction. Edward was about to call it a failure and get up when Jonathan spoke.

“That’s a shame,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Jonathan shook his head before speaking more clearly.

“I shouldn’t weep. It’s not worth the effort.”

“Sometimes you just need to cry, even if it doesn’t make sense,” Edward assured him.

“It’s not going to fix anything,” Jonathan insisted. “They’ll catch my dad soon. He’ll lose motivation without me around.”

“That’s a- good thing. I suppose.”

“Good for the city, but what do you think they’ll do with me?” Jonathan asked, looking up with tear-stained eye towards Edward. “I don’t want to be locked up. You’re not an officer, you can help me. Please help me.”

Edward’s lips tightened up looking down at Jonathan. He just seemed so small and pathetic and needy. Edward knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved. Knew he should have offered some comfort and left it a that. Just walked away from this skinny little runaway teen. But how could he just say no and live with himself?

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

*****

Later in the night, Edward managed to sneak Jonathan out of one of the GCPD’s emergency exits. From there, it was a matter of acting like nothing was wrong while they got back to Edward’s apartment. Jonathan pulled it off like a master, but Edward felt as though everyone he passed could see the cold sweat on his brow. Not to say they passed too many people, the streets were relatively empty, seeing as the sun was halfway set already. He had been somewhat nervous that they might run into thugs and Jonathan could tell if the sideways glances he was giving Edward were any indication. Every now and then Jonathan, perhaps intentionally, brushed their sides together, accompanying the gesture with a smile that screamed confidence. Confidence and a bit of snobbishness. The walk wasn’t too long, but Edward almost wished it had taken a few more blocks.

Edward still breathed a sigh of relief as they arrived in his building and he led the way upstairs. No one else was around to see them, but he could never be sure when someone might come down the stairs and question Jonathan’s presence. He fumbled to pull out his keys, trying to ignore his heart thumping in his chest. He hoped Jonathan wouldn’t notice.

At last, they came to his door and Edward shoved the key in the lock, glancing around the hall. It clicked open in an instant and Edward slid to door open, moving out of the way for Jonathan to enter first. Edward had only just stepped inside when he heard something creak open somewhere down the hall. He all but slammed the door shut, clicking the lock back into place. He shut his eyes for a moment and let out the breath he had been holding.

“Make yourself at home,” Edward said, a bit winded. He looked to Jonathan. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan had said the same thing at least four times that day. He was gazing around the room, but he wasn’t moving and his shoulders were tense. He didn’t seem particularly impressed.

“Do you need anything? You must be hungry.”

“I haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours so a bit, yes.”

Edward clapped his hands and grinned at Jonathan.

“I can fix that.”

He was hungry himself and it was well past when he would usually have made dinner. Edward headed over to the kitchen area and opened up the freezer, peering inside.

“You like fish?” he called.

“I’m ready to eat a horse so anything is fine by me.”

“Great, great, great, we will definitely get along.”

As Edward pulled out and unwrapped a couple haddock filets, Jonathan settled himself at the compact table nearby. He still didn’t look comfortable, but he was acclimating at least. Edward figured it was best to leave him be for the time being. 

Edward went through the motions, turned on one of the burners and placed a pan on it before adding the fish. He picked up his timer and twisted its face for five minutes. At that point, it was just a matter of killing time.

“Sometimes you’ll find me hard and cold-” Edward said, turning his attention to Jonathan.

Jonathan, in turn, snapped his gaze to Edward, squinting at him.  
“-other times I’m hard to hold. I’m always present in the air, but if I’m ever gone, beware. What am I?”

Jonathan gave a slow blink as he finished. He had his brow raised, but he hadn’t told Edward to stuff it nor said that he hated riddles yet. That usually indicated interest at least.

“Do you give up?” Edward asked after a minute of waiting passed.

“Water,” Jonathan answered.

Edward smiled. They would definitely get along.

“Right. Do you want something to drink? Milk? Juice?”

“Just water,” Jonathan said, nodding his way.

Edward opened his cabinet and took out a pair of glasses. He then went to the fridge to grab some milk for himself and his eyes were drawn to a leftover package of sliced turkey. Picking that up along with the milk, Edward shut the door.

After placing the milk on the counter, he padded over to Jonathan and held the packet for him to take.

“Turkey?”

Jonathan hesitated, glancing from the package to Edward as though he might get slapped if he accepted.

“How long has that been in your fridge?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s not going to give you food poisoning,” Edward assured him. “I’ll have it if you don’t, but it’s good.”

“No, I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jonathan took the turkey from his hand, but didn’t open it right away. As soon as his back was turned, however, Edward heard plastic being manipulated and light chewing. By the time Edward came back with Jonathan’s water, the meat was almost entirely gone. Poor thing really was starving.

Jonathan eased a bit more with food in his stomach and it wasn’t long before the meal proper was done. The filets were simpler than what he usually liked to make, just the fish itself and a few herbs, but he had a very hungry teenager to feed so best to keep it simple for now. The thought gave Edward a warm sense of pride. He had someone to take care of, someone he had to think about outside of himself, someone he could pour love into and keep safe. At least, he did for now. The sense of pride died as quickly as it came.

Better not to think about the future yet. Edward shook his head and grabbed a couple plates from a cupboard, stabbing the filets and placing them onto the plates. He switched off the burners and placed utensils on their plates before stepping over to put them on the table.

“Eat up,” Edward said as he sat across from Jonathan, giving him an approving nod.

Jonathan was hesitant, but he picked up his knife and fork and cut out a chunk nonetheless. After a tentative bite or two, he was eating at a steady pace, allowing Edward to comfortably eat as well.

They didn’t speak as they ate. Both were too focused on quelling their hunger. Jonathan made an effort to stifle his rapid chewing and swallowing, though, he wasn’t doing a very good job. It made Edward chuckle under his breath. He remembered being Jonathan’s age, being constantly on the look out for his next bite.

“What are you laughing at?” Jonathan asked. He’d paused eating to give Edward the most authentic, yet most ridiculous high-and-mighty glower.

“Not at you, I promise.”

Jonathan scrutinized Edward for a good several seconds before his expression faded back into a frown.  
“Oh. Good.”

He turned his attention back to his food and Edward held back his giggles this time. Jonathan was on edge and he shouldn’t have laughed anyway. It was just a shame that Jonathan couldn’t see how adorable he really was.

Neither of them spoke any further as they finished up. Jonathan was done first, but he didn’t move as Edward followed suit. For the pomp that the kid put on, he did try to be polite, Edward could see that much. His resolution was only solidified when Jonathan spoke once again.

“I realize I’ve said it a lot, but thank you very much for this,” he said breaking the stretch of silence. “You don’t have to cook for me, though, I’m quite capable of doing that myself.”

“You’re welcome to take what you need from the fridge. I would like to cook for you, but if that makes you uncomfortable then-”

“No!” Jonathan cut in. “No, I mean- it’s nice. Having someone do that for me. And not eating alone.”

“I like having someone to cook for and someone to eat with. Win-win.”

“Guess that would be.” His face scrunched up with thought. “How unusual.”

“Unusual?” Edward echoed.

“I’ve never met anyone else this- giving. Not without blood ties. Or ulterior motives.”

“That’s regrettable,” Edward said, offering a warm smile. “But I’m just glad I’ve had the opportunity to take you into my home.”

“You don’t want anything of me?”

“I want you to be safe and I want you to be comfortable here. That’s it.”

Jonathan’s frown deepened and he gazed sideways. There was remorse in his expression, certainly, but Edward detected a hint of disappointment.

“I believe you’re telling the truth,” he said. “I’m exhausted. I hope you don’t mind me taking the sofa.”

“You can have my bed if you want.”

“No,” Jonathan said, standing from the table. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“Sleep well,” Edward said with a nod.

Jonathan gave him a look like he had two heads, but didn’t say anything. He headed away from the table, leaving Edward to clean up. He picked up his milk and downed the remainder of it, smiling to himself all the while. All things considered, Edward thought he had made a pretty good first impression.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm never going to get over Jonathan being younger than Edward. I am extremely used to Jonathan being the aging gentleman who looks down on everyone and everything around him. It changes this relationship's entire dynamic, but I still want these two to be together badly no matter what form they take. Been meaning to write something like this forever, really. It's not the most feasible pairing in the Gotham-verse, but I will make the square peg go in this round hole to have my OTP.
> 
> Seeing as Jonathan has had virtually no development outside of screaming in the show so far, I have taken elements of other depictions of Crane and transplanted them onto this Crane while maintaining what we do know. This means that I am going to have to write a snobby, overly dignified middle-aged man in the body of a teenager with daddy issues. God help me. At least I get to have him roll his eyes and it will make universal sense. I've always liked making Jonathan an eye roller.


End file.
